Spirit Guide Chapter 2

In the nanosecond before he opened his eyes, Tom knew he did not want to be wherever he was. He felt the cold and damp seeping through his clothing, the utter silence deafening his ears. This place was too quiet, eerily quiet. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up. His troubled blue eyes flew open. His stance fell into the defensive crouch he had perfected after countless hours of Klingon martial arts.

He was deep inside a dark forest. Everywhere he looked he saw huge, Redwood sized tree trunks, dense, dark green foliage and inky black shadows. Dark earth tones were the only colours here- deep browns, greens and blacks. No other colours. No flowers. No animals. No life other than the trees, the scrub brush, and him.

Despite that, his senses told him he was not alone. He could not hear or see or even smell anyone else yet he knew they were there. Many "they"s actually. And "they" were coming closer with every passing second.

Fear like he had never known suddenly coursed through him. The man who boldly had stared down a mob of murderous criminals in the Akritirian prison to protect Harry Kim began to tremble. The young man who resolutely had faced a hostile panel of admirals at his court-martial began to sweat. The boy who silently had accepted a disapproving father's harsh words began to hyperventilate. The frightened animal who was Tom Paris began to run.

For Chakotay, still seated across from Tom's body, the trembling, sweating, and laboured breathing was a mildly alarming, though not an entirely unheard of, reaction. He remembered when he was a little boy and he, one of his second cousins, and two of their friends had disobeyed their elders and sneaked out one night to observe the older brother of one of the friends who was on his first Vision Quest. He had been like this, but it had been from days of wandering the wilderness outside of their settlement, following the complex, ancient rituals which would permit him to commune with the spirits. The scientist in Chakotay would admit the combination of exhaustion, deprivation of water and food, and the intake of certain psychoactive herbs was more the root of his friend's brother's bedraggled and manic appearance than the communing part. That was not the case for Tom.

'Or was it?' he wondered. 'A double shift in Sickbay. A pop quiz followed by intensive studying. And hadn't Tom made some apology to Neelix at the staff meeting that morning before his shifts about having to leave the party early last night because of some personal crisis with one of his pilots? That would explain his reaction. Exhaustion plus quite probably skipping meals to study plus the nervousness about doing something outside of his realm of experience could equal this sort of reaction.'

Deciding everything probably was progressing as it should; Chakotay rose from the floor. His intention all along had been to catch up on some reports while he waited for Tom to return. The soft sound of the door chime forestalled that plan. The Commander rushed over to answer the door for fear the sound would interrupt his student.

"Kathryn." He unceremoniously tugged her far enough back into the corridor to ensure his quarters' door closed.

"Chakotay?"

"I'm sorry, Kathryn, but Tom's in there and I don't want him disturbed right now."

Her auburn coloured brows nearly disappeared into her hairline. "Tom?"

"Yes."

"In your quarters?"

"Yes."

"What did he do to B'Elanna and what did you do to him because of it?"

Chakotay chuckled along with her. "Nothing and nothing." He thought for a moment about whether he should intrude on Tom's privacy by telling the Captain what he was doing. In the end, he did not have to choose.

Kathryn's nose wrinkled delicately. "Chakotay?"

"Yes?"

"That smell." Her eyes leapt to his. "The candles. Tom's... You're showing him how to..."

"Yes."

"Whose idea was that?"

"His, believe it or not."

"Huh. What do you know?"

"It took me a bit by surprise as well but here he is."

"And how's it going?"

"Fine, I think."

"You think?"

"Well, he isn't having the easy time of it that you and most everyone else I've ever seen do this have but-"

"What exactly what kind of time is he having?" The mother hen in her was in full evidence.

"Kathryn, he's tired and probably skipped lunch because he was studying with the Doctor, and -" He broke off as some crewmembers passed by- "-and he was a bit unsure about all this when it finally came time to do it. All that put together and he's having a little rougher go of it than anyone else does."

"How rough?""Nothing too out of line, Kathryn, I promise you. You know I wouldn't do anything to endanger your personal reclamation project."

She gave him an uneasy smile. "Can I see him?"

He motioned for her to proceed him inside his quarters. Tom had neither moved from his spot on the floor nor withdrawn his fingers from the akoonah touchpad. The outward signs of distress continued unabated.

"Chakotay!"

"He'll be okay, Kathryn," he assured her quietly. "I saw something similar once before. Well, not exactly under the same circumstances but there was nothing to worry about then and there isn't now. He'll be fine."

The look on her face indicated she was not convinced. "You will stay here and watch him." It was an order not a request.

"Of course."

"And if he gets any worse-"

"I'll inform the Doctor immediately."

Reluctantly, she nodded and left, forgetting to mention the reason for her visit.

Even from so far away, she, in the deepest of meditations, felt his presence. Cautiously, she reached out to him. Not enough for him to sense her presence as she did his, but just enough to brush his consciousness. She had to be careful. She had to be certain it truly was him before she told the others. After so many misidentifications, she had to know if it was *him* before she told her people. They could not be disappointed again.

'There had to be a way out of here,' Tom assured himself, hurtling head long through the forest. 'There had to be some escape from them.' They were right behind him, he knew they were though refused to glance over his shoulder to check. It partly was to avoid collision with a tree trunk, but mostly out of the fear of actually seeing his pursuers. He had no idea who they were, only that he had to evade them or else suffer dire consequences. That feeling alone was a good enough reason for him at this point.

But Fate had other plans for him. As he dodged yet another Redwood, his toe caught an exposed root and down he went. Before he could scramble to his feet, they were upon him.

That was when he began to scream.

Reclining on the couch, Chakotay nearly had dosed off while reviewing the latest astrometrics reports. The dry, factual data with which Seven had provided him may have been fascinating for her but he found it to be an excellent barbiturate. 'Have to remember it the next time I've insomnia,' he mused hazily.

Tom's scream drove all of the report's effects away. Chakotay was up and off of the couch in a flash, nearly tripping over the coffee table in his haste. He grabbed the candles before they could tip and was rewarded with hot wax coursing down the back of both of his hands. Trying not to do a little screaming himself, he shoved the injured appendages under his arms and kneeled opposite Tom.

"Bridge to Commander Chakotay."

"Go ahead, Tuvok," he ground out.

"Commander, internal sensors have registered a disturbance in your quarters. Do you need assistance?"

Chakotay's automatic response was to have been in the negative, yet, after taking a visual inventory of Tom, he changed his mind. The young man's hair and clothing was soaked right through. The naturally fair skin was blanched pale as death. The tremors and laboured breathing had ceased so now he was frozen in place, barely breathing.

"Send the Doctor to my quarters with a medkit right away."

Kathryn's worried voice came over the channel. "Chakotay, is Tom-"

"Yes," he cut her off.

"I'm on my way. Bridge out."

The scream frightened her. From the thick branch on which she sat unobserved, she looked down at the incomprehensible melee beneath her. Shadowy forms leapt out from the foliage to swarm the prone figure. To her eyes, they had no discernible features, no arms or legs, no hands or feet. Each was a blur of a shade of grey with a presence so strong she wondered why she had had not felt them before.

To the object of the disturbance, his assailants had more substance. With every demonstration of their tangible anger, she could see him reel as if from physical blows. Her heart went out to him. Even if he was not the one she sought, her innately good nature made her wish she could intervene. The enormity of her mission, her purpose for coming there, her reason for seeking the right man, and her goal for her people prevented all her from moving a nanometre towards him. Determinedly, she forced herself to be detached and focus on her task at hand.

"Report, Doctor," the Captain demanded the moment she entered her First Officer's quarters uninvited.

"Preliminary scans indicate he is in severe distress," the hologram answered, running over his patient with a medical tricorder.

"I honestly can't figure out why," Chakotay said, still kneeling in front of Tom as he used a dermal regenerator on his own injured hands.

"Chakotay, what happened to your hands?" she asked, distractedly noticing what he was doing.

"I splashed some hot wax on them by accident. It's nothing to do with Tom."

"I see. Doctor, any idea what is happening to Tom?"

"Not entirely. His brain activity is abnormal to say the least. When did this distress start, Commander?"

"Not long after he began," the First Officer responded, setting aside the dermal regenerator.

The Doctor ran the tricorder over the akoonah. "I would need an Engineering tricorder to be certain, but I think there is something wrong with this device."

"But it checked out okay after the last time I used it."

"Whether it worked then or not, turn it off," Kathryn insisted.

The Doctor prevented her from doing so. "Captain, right now we are going to do nothing of the sort."

"But you just said-"

"It is would be like waking a sleepwalker, Kathryn," Chakotay insisted. "It would be a huge shock to Tom's mind if we abruptly dragged him back here."

Frowning, the EMH looked at the Commander. "Setting aside the debate about whether Mr. Paris's consciousness truly is on some other plane, the fact of the matter remains I cannot explain what is going on with his brain. The reading are like nothing I ever have encountered before. I cannot permit you to interfere with him in anyway until I know it will not cause permanent and severe brain damage."

"We can't just leave him like this!"

"We have to... for now."

Kathryn's shoulders slumped as she realised they were right. "You'll move him to Sickbay."

"No, I don't think so," he contradicted, turning back to his patient. "Not at this time anyway. I don't know what the transporter might do to him or the device. Moving him bodily might break his contact with it. For now I think it is best to keep him here. Let him come around in the same surroundings he saw when he... left. More soothing. I'll have monitoring devices set up to watch over him but for now he'll have to stay where he is."

"Monitoring devices are fine, but I don't want Tom left alone."

"I'll be here," Chakotay assured her, "and I'm sure Tom's friends will come sit with him when I can't be."

"Surely it won't take that long."

The Doctor shrugged. "I'm not sure how long it will take, Captain."

"Tom may still come out of this naturally," Chakotay added.

"I'll go retrieve the equipment I need." Handing the tricorder to the Captain, the EMH departed.

"Tell me again how you've seen this sort of reaction before," Kathryn snapped. The pained look on his face elicited a sigh from her as she ran a hand through her hair. "I'm sorry, Chakotay. That was uncalled for."

"No, it was, Kathryn. I should not have let him do this. I had a bad feeling about it before he even got here tonight. I honestly thought it was just me not trusting his motivation for wanting to do this. I never thought it might be an omen. Until now, I've never heard of anyone having an adverse reaction to this. I honestly didn't think there was any danger involved." He glared at the akoonah. "I scanned it after I used it the last time. As routine maintenance. All readings were normal. I can't understand this."

Tom let out another scream. They both jumped.

Shaking, she pressed her free hand to her lips. "Wherever he is..."

"Is not anywhere we want to be," he finished for her as frightened as she.

'It was no use,' Tom realised. 'They just keep coming. The more he struggled, the worse it all became.' He curled into the foetal position, eyes screwed shut against the pain. The memories continued to flood him, painful ones long ago shoved to the recesses of his mind.

The first time he knew someone was his friend only because of his family name.

The earliest realisation he was a disappointment to his father.

The despair in discovering no matter what he did he never would hear his father say he loved him.

The loss of his first love, Susie Crabtree.

The hell of Caldik Prime.

The months of aimless wandering, alcoholic blackouts, and bar fights.

The depths to which he had sunk to survive.

The suspicions of the Maquis.

The censorious looks of the Starfleet officers who captured him.

The dull ache of not having even one member of his family at his trial.

The torments at the hands of his fellow prisoners.

The lengths to which he had to resort to ensure his safety in New Zealand.

The impotence to stop Durst's death in the Vidiian prison

The attempted murder of Harry in Akritirian prison by Paris's own hand.

They all left him as tattered and near defenceless.

That was the instant the ones he had not even known he harboured struck. They swarmed over him, like scavengers over carrion. They picked him clean of the last, precious residue of self-control and self-defence he possessed. They continued tearing at him until all that was left of him was a few metaphorical bones scattered here and there.

It was they who forced him to begin to remember all. Horrific memories, some locked away for over thirty years. All the proper terms came back to him along with graphic demonstrations of exactly what they signified. He was there, reliving it all again, as powerless to stop any of it as he had been at the time they had occurred.

And "they" were glad.

Now he knew who the "they" were who had been pursuing him. Now he was terrified of them, not just afraid.

Despite knowing all of them were too intent on their prey to look far up into the tree and see her, she shrank back against the tree trunk. Unlike her, everyone else obviously knew what was going on. Clearly, they were sharing some sort of telepathic link which did not include her and as much as she wanted to know what was happening, she was reluctant to reach out to merge her consciousness with the man's to find out. There was the fear in her that the predators would sense the merging and take it as a sign they were together and pounce on her, too. She would not permit herself to be placed in the position of having to align herself with someone who was the wrong man merely for protection from his attackers.

And surely this was the wrong man. Yes, he was the correct build and colouring, but could the one who had been described to them have done anything so horrid so as to merit this sort of treatment? Could anyone? She could not see any physical blows being made, but she could see the results and they were ghastly.

Yet she could not bring herself to leave, not when there remained a chance it was him.

So she stayed, safely hidden where she was, and watched the gruesome spectacle far below, certain it could not become any worse.

She was wrong. All the while, waiting in the background, were two who were delighted to witness the man's misery. These two were had special meaning to Tom Paris. They were not quite like the others. Their grudge against him was even more personal.

Their lips were curved into identical sneers. They were pleased by the events unfolding before them. They had enjoyed watching his memories return to him, literally with a vengeance. What did not please them though was that in spite of the lingering morals of which others had tried and failed to strip him, he felt no remorse for what he had done to them.

But they were going to see to it that changed and he came to regret everything that he had done to them.

When the others had expressed the full brunt of their rage towards the injured man before them, they retreated to the shadows to silently watch the macabre show which was about to begin. They smiled as Gul Camet and his biological father, Legate Meer, approached their murderer with mayhem on their minds.